


Don't Take It So Personally

by arwens_light



Series: Weirdos, Freaks, and Geeks [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Child Abuse, Dungeons & Dragons, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8284969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arwens_light/pseuds/arwens_light
Summary: A look into Jonathan's past.The first time it happened, Jonathan was five. He didn't remember why it happened, he just remembered his father raising his hand and striking him. He must have done something to deserve it... why else would his father have struck him?*Warnings of child abuse*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The genius Duffer Brothers own all characters of Stranger Things.

The first time it happened, Jonathan was five. He didn't remember why it happened, he just remembered his father raising his hand and striking him. He must have done something to deserve it... why else would his father have struck him?

Joyce didn't condone hitting a child. Lonnie claimed to have the same views... except for when he was drunk. The few times Joyce caught a drunk Lonnie in the middle of disciplining Jonathan, she had put a stop it to. Jonathan wasn't sure what was worse - the beating or the screaming between his parents. 

At first, Jonathan had been desperate to reconcile his parents, so that everything could go back to normal. He didn't talk back to his parents, he did all of his chores without complaining. He tried his best in school, earning mostly A's and B's. But eventually he began to discover that it didn't matter what he did. Lonnie always found an excuse when he was drunk.

Lonnie's inability to hold down a job was a contributing factor in his reason behind the bottle. Joyce would tell Lonnie not to bother coming home if he was drunk, but sometimes he came back anyway. Their fighting would often wake Jonathan and Will up. Will would cry while Jonathan pulled the covers over his head and pressed his hands to his ears, attempting to drown out the screaming. 

When Joyce wasn't around, Jonathan took the majority of the abuse, Will being too little. He always tried to fight back, but wasn't strong enough. There was one terrible time that Jonathan had walked in on Lonnie raising his hand to hit Will. Jonathan had attempted to shove his father away from his little brother, only Lonnie was like a brick wall and didn't budge. Jonathan had received a sharp slap across the face for that, but at least Will had been spared. 

Occasionally, Jonathan would come to school with a visible mark or bruise. Teachers who appeared concerned would ask how things were at home, but he came to find out that most people didn't really care... they said one thing, but meant another. Most people in Hawkins turned a blind eye when it came to these types of things. So he would just shrug and remain quiet. Internalize the pain and push it aside to the back of his mind. 

Jonathan could only remember a handful of times that Lonnie tried to connect with his oldest son. In particular, Lonnie tried to get Jonathan to participation in a school sport or take up hunting. Jonathan wasn't into sports. Not to say that he wasn't athletic, but his run was a bit awkward and his hand-eye coordination could use improvement. Lonnie had forced Jonathan to participate in Hawkins' little league baseball when he was in elementary school. Joyce tried to encourage him in this, said it would help him make friends, but Jonathan hated every minute of it. He remembered the look of disappointment in Lonnie's eyes every time he struck out or missed catching a pop-fly. Gathering his courage, in fifth grade, Jonathan had told Lonnie that baseball was stupid and he didn't want to play anymore. Much to his surprise, Lonnie hadn't argued or raised his voice or hit him. Instead, Lonnie let out a deep sigh of disappointment and simply nodded. Somehow, that was worse.  

When Jonathan was nine, on the eve of his tenth birthday, Lonnie announced that he was going to take Jonathan hunting. Joyce had reservations, but Lonnie put his foot down, stating that it was time Jonathan became a man - and what better way of doing that than killing something. 

Lonnie took Jonathan out into the woods behind their house and gave him a lesson in the basics of shooting and gun safety. It was okay at first. Jonathan liked being out in the woods, liked the smell of the fall leaves and the bite of the chill air. Lonnie told Jonathan stories about his father taking him hunting. They started tracking small game and soon came upon a rabbit. Lonnie helped Jonathan line up with his target and take aim. But once Jonathan looked down the sight at the rabbit, all he could imagine was Thumper from Bambi... and he froze. His father prodded him in the ribs, urging him to take the shot. Jonathan's eyes filled with tears and he began to shake his head. 

Lonnie had sighed, deep and angry. "Stop being a fucking sissy and shot the goddamn rabbit."

Jonathan's chin quivered. He shut his eyes and pulled the trigger. _BANG_. The shot rang out, deafening in the silence of the forest. 

Eventually, the ringing in his ears began to fade. He could faintly hear crows cawing in the distance. Lonnie thumped Jonathan on the back, praising him for his first kill. He jogged over and retrieved the rabbit, holding it by the ears. 

Jonathan's stomach heaved and he almost retched. His eyes swam with tears. Lonnie extended the creature toward Jonathan and the final string holding him together snapped. Tears began to stream down his cheek and Jonathan sobbed. Lonnie had stopped in his tracks, rabbit's ears still clutched in his hand. 

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" he snapped. 

Jonathan shook his head, unable to speak. He had murdered Thumper. His father didn't understand. His chest hurt and it was hard to breathe. Jonathan began to hyperventilate, unable to catch his breath. 

"Don't take it so personally," Lonnie muttered darkly. 

Lonnie grabbed the collar of Jonathan's jacket and pulled him along. Jonathan following, stumbling along behind his father. He continued to sob, big crocodile tears running down his face and neck. Lonnie released Jonathan once they reached their front porch, shoving him toward the front door. "Go on inside with your mama," he instructed, turning away from his son. 

Jonathan sought comfort in his mother's arms. Joyce held him, rocking him back and forth, as he attempted to stammer out what had happened. Lonnie left and didn't return that night. 

Jonathan and Will slept with Joyce in their parent's bed that night. Joyce snored and Will kicked in his sleep and Jonathan cried. In fact, Jonathan cried for a better part of the week, his eyes so red and puffy that he was sent home from school on account the faculty thought he had pink eye. 

By the time Jonathan turned twelve, Joyce had kicked Lonnie out of the house for good. Well, mostly. He still showed up sometimes and Joyce, in a moment of weakness, would allow him back into the house. Things would be good for a week or two - Lonnie would act like a good husband and a decent father. Until something happened and he snapped, lashing out at Joyce or Jonathan. 

Jonathan became more introverted, preferring to observe others than interact with them. It was safer that way, keeping a distance between himself and others. Less risk of getting hurt or ridiculed. When he was thirteen, he bought his camera with money he had saved up over several years doing odd jobs for neighbors and a few small business owners around Hawkins. Hawkins High School allowed Jonathan the opportunity to learn more about photography - and he found that he loved the development process. The dark room was a sanctuary of sorts for him, the warm red light bathing everything in soft shadows in stark contrast to the odor of the chemicals. More times than not, he was alone, which he desperately craved within the concrete walls of the school. The photography allowed him to capture images that revealed hidden truths and secrets; allowed him to see a person for who they really were in that moment... 

 

Jonathan was fourteen the last time Lonnie hit him. Jonathan and Will had been visiting Lonnie at the hotel he usually stayed at outside of Hawkins after Joyce kicked him out of the house. Lonnie had been on a bender all weekend and Jonathan had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jonathan remembered being shoved up against the wall and the sound of Will screaming at their father to stop. In that moment, before a fist collided with his temple and his world faded to black, he saw his father for who he really was, saw the person he feared becoming himself. He saw a monster.


	2. Sticks and Stones to Build a Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning** This chapter will include child abuse, please proceed with caution.

The laughter was still ringing in Jonathan's ears as he walked to the Hawkins Public Library, he could feel it chasing after him, boring into his brain.

His cheeks burned and his vision blurred. He felt ... horribly empty. Embarrassed. For being - what? Different? Ashamed for caring so much about what his classmates said. 

'What's wrong with you?'

'God, you suck!'

'Go away, nobody wants you on their team, Byers.'

His classmate's words rang in his ears, sharp and cutting before transforming into his father's voice. 

'Jesus, Jonathan... what the hell is wrong with you? Jesus Christ...' 

It was supposed to be fun. Lots of kids said Physical Education was their favorite class - no homework, just playing around. But it was torture for Jonathan. He was a skinny, gangly looking kid, but so were other boys his age. He was decently quick on his feet when he needed to be, but his coordination wasn't quite there. His feet always seemed to get tangled and he could never seem to throw a ball straight. It hadn't been as big of a deal in Elementary School, after all, lots of other kids lacked the hand-eye coordination required to excel at sports. But as he grew older, Jonathan found that those skills didn't come naturally to him. 

He had been forced to participate in a variety of sporting activities as part of Physical Education and while not wholly unathletic, he wasn’t exactly the athletic type. He knew the gait of his run was a bit odd – his dad had pointed it out on more than one occasion – he hadn’t needed his classmates’ commentary on it too. His hand-eye coordination wasn’t great either – his inability to hit a target with his father’s gun proved that. 

His father had been so disappointed when he came to the realization that Jonathan would never be a high school athlete - that he would never play Varsity ball. Lonnie had been an athlete - played baseball and football all through high school. It had been the height of his existence. Then Joyce had gotten pregnant with Jonathan and Lonnie had not done anything else with his life, other than pick up a bottle. 

Jonathan entered the Library with his head down, using his backpack as a shield against prying eyes. If the librarian thought it was strange for an eleven year-old boy to be away from school in the middle of the morning, she didn't say anything. 

He quickly made his way to the back, to the fiction section. He retrieved a book from the shelf and settled down, leaning his back against the wall at the end of a long aisle. He examined the cover before flipping it open to the first chapter. 

Jonathan was so engrossed in his book that he didn't notice the time. The sun was hanging low in the sky as he exited the Library and his stomach rumbled. He started the long walk home, his noise still in his book until the light was too dim to read clearly. He should have called when he left the Library, but he had been so focused on the world unfolding for him within the pages of his book that he hadn't been thinking clearly. When he walked into the house, his mother flew at him. She pulled him into a crushing hug, tears spilling down her cheeks  and then she shook him by the shoulders, yelling at him to never frighten her like that again. Jonathan awkwardly tried to comfort his mother, muttering apologies as he hugged her back, red rising  along his neck as she peppered his face with kisses. 

The front door slammed shut and both Joyce and Jonathan jumped. Lonnie stood in the doorway, his eyes flashing hard and cold. 

"Where the hell have you been?" he growled, stepping forward. 

Joyce pushed Jonathan behind her, blocking him from Lonnie. "He's safe, he's home now, everything's alright, Lonnie -"

Lonnie shoved Joyce aside and grabbed Jonathan's collar. "Boy skipped school, comes home after dark, God knows what he was up to..."

"I-I was at the Library," Jonathan insisted, grabbing at Lonnie's hand as his father began to pull him through the kitchen, toward the backdoor. "Please, stop..."

Lonnie stopped short and looked down at Jonathan, his expression full of disgust. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath. The smell of liquor on his father's breath was strong. 

"Lonnie, stop this!" Joyce shouted, pulling on his free arm. 

Lonnie kicked open the backdoor and shoved Jonathan through. He fell on his hands and knees, scrambling quickly to crouch in the corner. Lonnie had turned on his mother, his back blocking Jonathan's view. 

"Stay out of this, Joyce," he heard his father growl. "I'm teaching my son a lesson."

Then his father was looming above him and Jonathan couldn't help the sob of terror that escaped his lips as Lonnie fisted his collar and pulled him to his feet. Jonathan stumbled down the stairs into the backyard, their dog barking furiously as he circled around them. Lonnie's strong hand gripped the back of Jonathan's neck, steering him to the shed behind their house. 

Lonnie shoved Jonathan inside, groping for the string that hung from the ceiling before giving it a firm tug. Soft yellow light filled the small structure, illuminating the random tools and broken toys that had been tossed inside. 

He tried to steel himself, but Jonathan was shaking uncontrollably and he couldn't stop himself. 

"You skipped school. You came home late," Lonnie addressed Jonathan's crimes with strangely calm voice. "I expect my son to behave and not run wild like some piece of trash."

"I'm sorry," Jonathan choked, curling his hands into fists in an attempt to get them to stop shaking. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Your apology isn't worth much at this point," Lonnie scowled, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt. "You had your mother worried sick." 

"I'm sorry, please, it won't happen again -"

"You're damn right it won't happen again," Lonnie concurred, pulling the thin leather strap from his hip. He placed the buckle in his palm and wrapped the leather around his hand. He towered over Jonathan. "But what you did was wrong and now, now I have to punish you."

Jonathan raised his arm defensively. "No, please, Dad -" Jonathan howled with pain as the belt snapped sharply, connecting with the bare skin on his forearm. 

Jonathan twisted, his arms raised, shielding his face. "No, no please," he sobbed at Lonnie's belt crack through the air and connected with his arm, his shoulder, his ribs, his back. 

He collapsed to the dusty floor, hands cradling his head as his father punished him. 

When Lonnie finally stopped, Jonathan remained on the floor, curled in an almost fetal position. 

Jonathan had stopped crying at some point, his tears wasted. He still shook slightly, unable to control his breath properly. He heard his father panting above him and heard the crunch of a boot turning on the dirty floor. 

The door to the shed opened and his father paused. "Get up," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Dust yourself off and go wash up for dinner. Your mother made a casserole that's getting cold."

Jonathan stayed huddled on the ground, face pressed against the grim and dirt until he heard his father walk into the house. Slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He brushed his sleeve over his eyes, wiping away the evidence of tears, and then stood and walked back to the house. 

His mother was in the kitchen, and threw him a worried glance as he entered, but he kept his eyes to the floor and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him. 

He turned on the faucet and let it run for a moment before scooping up a handful and splashing it onto his face. The water felt good, refreshing. He washed the dirt from his face and scrubbed his hands clean. A bright red stripe sat across his forearm, burning slightly under the cool water. He turned off the faucet and leaned against the sink, breathing heavily from his nose. Glancing up, he stared at his reflection in the smudged mirror. His eyes, dark and hollow under sharp cheek bones, stared back at him for a moment before flitting away. His face was red and puffy, still slightly damp, but clean. His hair was plastered to his forehead and he shoved it back, out of his eyes. 

For a moment, the image swam before his eyes, but he shook his head resolutely, determined not to cry again. Sniffling, Jonathan quickly slipped out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, searching for a long-sleeved shirt to cover the angry red welts rising on his arms and neck. He didn't want Will to see... 

The Byers ate dinner in relative silence that night, the radio droning on about the start of baseball season and the local prospects.

Will ate in happy silence, coloring on his paper napkin in between bites of tuna casserole. Jonathan ate slowly, methodically, and tried to ignore the weight of his mother's stare. Lonnie cracked open a beer and leaned back in his chair, a satisfying hand rubbing his stomach. 

The Byers ate in silence. And Jonathan felt a spark of hatred for his father flicker.


	3. Dragon's Lair and Angel's Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling in love with Nancy Wheeler was not a soft, slow thing, but a tumbling, fast, head-over-heels fall.

He had just turned thirteen when he realized he had a crush on Nancy Wheeler. It was at the tail-end of a weekend that Will had been spending at the Wheeler's. Will and his friends had recently discovered the game of Dungeons and Dragons and had become obsessed. Mike had been designated at the Dungeon Master and had spent the better part of a month developing the world they would embark on an adventure in that weekend. Will hadn't shut up about it for weeks, talking about the character he was developing. The boys had all dressed in costumes for their first game. Jonathan remembered Joyce helping Will into his wizard costume; he had thought his little brother looked more like a hobo than a wizard, but Will had been so happy, he hadn't mentioned it. 

Joyce and Jonathan had driven over to the Wheeler's on that Sunday evening to pick up Will. The boys were in the Wheeler's basement, in the final stages of the game. Karen Wheeler had invited Joyce to have a cup of tea with her in the kitchen and had given Jonathan a plate of cookies to take down to the boys. 

Jonathan scooped up the plate of fresh baked cookies, popping several in his mouth on the way down the carpeted staircase. The taste of sugar and warm chocolate flooded his senses. As he reached the final step, he almost choked on the cookie. The group of children gathered around the card table in the Wheeler's basement all looked up at Jonathan. 

Nancy Wheeler was sitting between Lucas and Dustin, dressed like an angel. He would later find out that she was actually an elf, but that didn't really matter much. She was wearing a long, green dress with a chain of daisies and clover in her dark hair and her brown eyes were rimmed in her mother's charcoal eyeliner. She smiled softly at him from across the table. 

He stared stupidly at her for several seconds too long before remembering himself and glancing away. Will jumped up, his face illuminated by his smile. 

"Jonathan!" he yelled, waving his arms wildly, beckoning his older brother closer. 

"Are those cookies?" Dustin asked, leaning around Lucas to get a better view. 

"We just entered the dragon's lair!" Will exclaimed happily, tugging his brother over to the table. 

Mike slapped his hands down on the table. "Focus! Come on! This is life or death here!"

The boys quickly straightened in their seats, their faces intent. Nancy glanced at Jonathan and offered him a small smile. He thought his knees would give out. 

He pulled over a chair that was leaning against the wall and sat down between Will and Lucas, the plate of cookies still balanced in his hands. 

"The cavern that you enter is dark and rank, you can hear the distant out of water - pit - pat - pit - pat."

"I light a torch," Dustin offered, reaching across the table to snatch a cookie from Jonathan. 

"Watch the board, man," Mike grumble, repositioning several figurines that had fallen over at Dustin's jostle. Mike and Dustin stared at each other for a moment, the later sucking the chocolate from his fingers. "Roll," Mike stressed, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh yeah!" Dustin scrambled to shake the dice before dumping it onto the table. It rolled and skidded to a stop in front of Lucas. 

"Six."

"You attempt to light the torch, but it won't sustain a flame."

"I use my staff," Will cut in. He glanced at Jonathan, who had a puzzled look on his face. "See, my staff has a crystal in it and I'm Will the Wise, so I can use my magic to make the crystal glow."

Jonathan nodded, still confused, as Will rolled the strange-looking dice. "Twelve!" 

"You are successfully in lighting your staff - a faint blue glow emanates from Will the Wise's staff, shining off the pile of gold filling the cave."

The boys cheered. Lucas grabbed the dice rubbing it between his hands. "I - uh, I - approach the treasure?" he asked, glancing between Dustin and Will. They both nodded in encouragement. Lucas blew on his closed fist and then flung the dice down onto the table. He groaned when the dice read seven.

Mike glanced down at his notebook, studying it for a moment. "You attempt to approach, but are prevented from reaching the treasure by an invisible wall." Mike collected the dice and passed it to Dustin. "Your move," he instructed. 

Dustin glanced at Nancy and extended the dice to her. Jonathan chanced a glance at her as she stared down at Dustin's hand, clearly confused. 

"Wanna roll, your highness?"

"Uh- I don't know..." 

"Dustin, just take your move," Mike grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

"Hey!" Dustin folded his arms across his chest. "If the elvish princess wants to make a move, who are you to stop her?"

"I'm the Dungeon Master, Dustin! I literally am making the rules!"

"Let her play if she wants," Will cut in. He grinned at Nancy. "I bet you have some elvish magic you could use to help us!" He suggested. 

Nancy slowly took the dice from Dustin, still looking incredibly unsure. "I-um, I guess, I cast a -"

"You're not a witch," Mike grumbled. 

"But if she's a high elf, she can use a spell from the wizard spell list!"

"Can I just summon the gold?" Nancy asked. 

"Roll for action," Mike replied shortly. 

"Try it," Will and Dustin encouraged. 

"Ok..." Nancy leaned forward, the dice clutched in her fist. "I use my magic -"

"Elvish magic," Mike muttered under his breath. Lucas elbowed him in the ribs. 

"- to summon the gold -"

"Out of the barrier!"

"To us!"

"Outside of the dragon's lair!"

Nancy collected her thoughts for a moment, and then clarified. "I use my magic to summon the gold outside of the dragon's cave - lair." She flicked her wrist and the dice spun on the table. It skidded and then rolled up in front of Jonathan. 

Jonathan and Will leaned forward to look at the dice. "Ten," Jonathan read. 

"Is that good?" Nancy asked, glancing between Lucas and Dustin. 

"The pile of gold shimmers and then disappears," Mike announced. 

"I lead the party outside to recover the treasure," Will says excitedly, throwing the dice. It landed on a sixteen. 

"You successfully leave the dragon's lair, but the treasure is no where to be seen."

"What? That's bull!" Dustin cries. 

Mike shrugged, "She didn't roll a high enough number to be completely successful with her spell. The treasure is outside of the cave, but there's not saying where it ended up."

The other boys groaned and Jonathan felt even more perplexed. "This is too complicated for me, I think I'm going to go outside," Jonathan said, excusing himself as he grabbed another cookie. 

He was surprised when Nancy stood quickly after him. "I think I'll come with you," she said, gathering her long skirt. 

Jonathan felt like his face was on fire and hoped to God that Nancy hadn't been able to see the flush in his cheeks. He stepped outside into the cool evening air and sighed as Nancy shut the basement door behind them. 

She sighed as well, coming to stand beside him. "Thanks for giving me an excuse to get out of there," she said, smiling up at him. 

Jonathan tried to smile back and then found himself unable to form a complete sentence in reply and shoved the cookie in his mouth. 

Nancy wandered over to the swing set and carefully sat down, arranging her skirts around her as she wrapped her hands around the metal chain. 

After a few awkward moments, Jonathan made his way over to the other swing and sat down beside Nancy. He glanced over at her. 

Nancy's head was tilted back, her eyes gazing up into the sky. Jonathan still thought she looked more like an angel than an elf. 

"Are you excited for high school?" Nancy asked, turning her eyes toward Jonathan. 

He chewed on his lip for a moment, pondering her question. "I- I don't know. I guess," he said noncommittal. 

Nancy hummed and turned her gaze back to the sky. "I am, and so is Barb. High school is going to be great!"

Jonathan watched as Nancy began to slowly swing beside him, her hair flowing softly back and forward around her face. 

"It'll be great," she whispered at the stars that where just starting the sparkle overhead. "You'll see."

As much as Jonathan very much doubted that their high school experiences would both be the same, he very much wanted to believe her.


End file.
